Don't Wander Off
by fallen for your eyes
Summary: She has pomegranate juice on her nose.


She has pomegranate juice on her nose.

She had insisted on buying full pomegranates at the grocery store instead of just the carton of seeds, and then she decided to open them herself.

But the thing is, she's never deseeded her own pomegranate, so she just hacked away at one with a spoon. Now there's pomegranate juice on her nose and running down her fingers, but Nell just looks up at him and smiles, and he can't bear to tell her that she got more juice on the wall than on the plate.

"I have succeeded." She says, holding out the bowl of torn up seeds, and he collapses onto the couch next to her, grabbing a handful.

"My kitchen might disagree with that." He teases. She punches his arm but smiles at him again, and it's like the world stops spinning for a moment.

And Nell Jones is sitting on his coach at three thirty in the afternoon with pomegranate juice running down her fingers and he wants to kiss her more than anything. But they established a line that they can't cross, one that keeps them as just two people sharing pomegranates on a couch at three thirty on a Saturday afternoon and sometimes it hurts to think about how she's right in front of him but they decided that it's best to not do anything they could regret.

Because, originally, both of them weren't ready. Kissing in the woods was spontaneous and amazing, but overall, he wasn't in the right mind space after killing someone, and then everything happened with Michelle, and then Hetty left, and Mosely appeared, and the whole world seemed like a mess, so they decided to be friends. And he's okay with that, because he loves being her friend. He loves everything that comes with Nell Jones, and he wouldn't have that if they weren't friends, but sometimes, only sometimes, he wants to know if her chap stick will taste the same way it smells, and what noise she would make when he presses his mouth to her throat.

"Beale." Nell says, snapping him out his very dangerous thoughts. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Fine." He reaches over to grab some more pomegranates, but it's a mistake, because it brings them even closer than before.

Her eyes widen in question, but she looks like she's attempting not to laugh. And he doesn't know what to do with himself. He's usually good at keeping himself together, good at ignoring every nerve in his body exploding when she's so close, but something is his brain is not working.

"Beale."

"Yeah."

"You sure you're okay?" She leans back and squints at him, like she can't figure him out. He's used to that look, the one when he's being a bit much, or when he says something that could almost be considered flirting. He's used to it and he knows it almost as well as he knows his own skin, and he knows he should move back, step away, get out of the living room for a moment, but instead, he reaches a hand up to her cheek.

"You have juice on your nose." He swipes his thumb over her skin, and he thinks her breath stutters. Or he's losing his mind, which is probably the more likely answer.

He pulls back, falling against the couch so he's no longer looking at her, and that's when he realizes that his hand is resting on her knee. He doesn't remember putting it there, but he thinks it happened when he moved to get more food.

He stares at his hand for a moment, then to Nell's face, and he recoils, pulling away, sitting on his hands, and mentally cursing everything that has ever led to this moment.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I don't even know – "

"Beale. Eric." She reaches for him, her hand falling to his knee, no barrier of her tights between them this time. "It's okay." She presses her other hand to his forehead, cool skin touching his burning face. "What's going on with you tonight?"

"I – " He wants to answer her, but he doesn't know. He doesn't know why he suddenly can't think of anything but how long it would take to open all of the buttons on her dress, and he hates himself for it. He doesn't want to be that guy, that stupid guy who wants his best friend, because Nell is so much more than that. She deserves so much more than him, and his stupid inability to think of anything other than the exact color of her lips.

"I don't know." He shakes his head and pulls off his glasses for a moment, so she's no longer in focus. She's a blur just beyond the edge of clarity, all red hair and navy blue dress, and a smile threatening to cut him up from the inside. And she's sitting on his couch with her hair a mess and she's never looked more beautiful. If they were at her house, he would get up and leave, but they're at his place and he has nowhere to escape.

He wonders if this is how Hades felt when Persephone wandered into the Underworld knowing she would never stay.

"You just need to relax." She squeezes his knee, and then reaches over for some more food. He takes a deep breath, tries to get his thoughts under control. And it works, it almost work, but then she pops a finger in her mouth to catch a pomegranate, and the thumb on her other hand is busy drawing lazy circles on his knee, and he just internally combusts.

His entire body tenses, and he goes to push himself off the couch, to get out of the room, to clear his mind, but her hand stills on his knee, and she presses him down just slightly.

"Where you going?" She asks, even though he hasn't even gotten up yet, but she knows him.

"A walk. I need to clear my head."

She tilts her head just slightly, and then, she gets a look in her eyes, the same look she had when she was teasing him about her panties, and it clicks.

She's testing him. Teasing him.

Nell knows him, at times more than he knows himself. She probably knew what he was thinking since before he sat down, and she just let him suffer.

"You –" He starts but he can't finish his thought. She bites her lip, casually, the smile spreading across her face. "God." His voice cracks over the word, and he hides his face in his hands. "You're torturing me."

"I have no idea what you are talking about." She says. But her hand slides up his arm.

"We made a decision."

"We made a tentative agreement. A pause. And maybe I'm ready to press play again." Her lips just brush against his ear. "Are you?"

He pulls her onto his lap, and his lips find hers before she can even laugh. He swallows her squeak of surprise, and her moan when his tongue slides against the seam of her lips.

She tastes like pomegranate seeds and vanilla chap stick, and his world falls off kilter when her hands slide into his hair.

"You lasted longer than I thought you would," she says as he makes her way down her throat.

He tugs at her dress, so his teeth can find her collar bone, and she gasps against him, and he can't breathe. The only thing he can think, hear, see, need, is her.

It takes him less than a minute to open all the buttons on her dress.

She peppers kisses across his face as he rolls her tights down her legs.

"Are you sure? About this? About us?" He asks. He doesn't want this to be another stepping stone. He wants her, and every part that comes with this. He wants the kisses and the hand holding, and the silly dates and the stupid arguments, and her.

She cups his face in her hands, and presses a peck against his lips. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

They nearly topple off the couch when he tugs her forward, lips knocking into each other, hands sliding over skin, moans floating into the air.

He wants to tell her he loves her, but it's too soon, too much, so instead he kisses her until he knows nothing but her name.

She knows him well enough to know what means anyway.

* * *

Hello! So this was lightly inspired by the fact that I have no idea how to deseed pomegranates, but thankful I have a wonderful roommate who does. I don't know about you guys, but I'm super excited for the Christmas episode, because the chances of Nell and Eric actually talking to each other is marginally larger than one typical episodes. Maybe we'll even get a reference to Christmas 2014 again. Title is from "fallingforyou" by the 1975. I also choose it because it has a tinge of Hades Persephone to it, and I mean, in a fic about pomegranates, how could I not. (Side note: I like the modern retellings where she willingly went to the underworld, and choose to stay) Thanks for reading!


End file.
